


Worms and Honey

by RovingOtter



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:45:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RovingOtter/pseuds/RovingOtter
Summary: Kariya lies dying in the street after his battle with Tokiomi.  But in this version of events, Kirei doesn’t bring him back to the Matou mansion.  Someone else finds him, instead.  Unexpected alliances are formed, fates are changed, and Kariya must finally confront his greatest enemy…all while he struggles to hold onto his fraying sanity.





	1. Chapter 1

Pain. Pain. Pain. Like a never-ending drumbeat. Pain and pain and pain. He had been cut into a hundred squirming pieces, and each one was burning alive.

He should be dead. Why wasn’t he? _I’m ready. Please…_

A face flashed through his head: a little girl, eyes empty. A broken little girl lying motionless in a pit, insects swarming over every inch of her naked flesh. 

Kariya Matou’s heart stirred in his chest, struggling to beat. He couldn’t die. Not yet. Not while she still suffered, helpless, in that underground hell. _Move,_ he thought. But his muscles ignored the signals from his brain. He wondered, dimly, if his legs were shattered.

_Move._

The finger of his right hand twitched. The rest of him remained immobile. The pavement was hard and cold beneath his cheek. _Pavement._ He was lying on a street.

A worm wriggled beneath the skin of his neck. They never seemed to rest. Sometimes, late at night he heard them shifting around inside his skull. Sometimes they spoke to him, grating out mockery in the voice of his father, or whispering words of encouragement in the voices of those he loved.

_Hold on, Uncle Kariya. We’re with you!_ Rin.

_Didn’t you promise to play with us in the park again?_ Sakura.

_Kariya…you’re so warm…_ Aoi.

He was losing his mind. He’d known it would happen, sooner or later—and if that was the case, it meant he didn’t have much time left. He only hoped he could hold out a little longer. Another week. A few more days. Long enough to win. Long enough to save her.

He knew—in a distant, abstract way—that he had become something out of a horror movie, something that shouldn’t exist. He no longer cared.

At some point, Kariya had stopped thinking of himself as a real person. He was too disgusting to be a person. Too pathetic. He was something else—a shadow, a ghost, a broken puppet lurching endlessly and mechanically forward, driven by a single purpose. By day, he wandered streets alone, dragging his broken body from alley to alley as the worms bred and fed inside his flesh, hiding from the eyes of the world. At night, sleeping in dark alleys alone, he dreamed of the days in the park, playing with Rin and Sakura as Aoi sat nearby, reading her book and smiling her soft, gentle smile.

Those days were gone. He knew that. But if he could save Sakura, it was enough. 

_If I could just move…_

So tired.

_Move…_

* * *

“Saber…look.” Irisviel lay a hand on Saber’s arm. “Someone’s there. Up ahead.”

“I see him.”

The man lay stomach-down, clad in a dirty, oversized hoodie. Beneath the hood, she could make out a shock of silver hair and part of his face. The skin had a ravaged, withered look. Burn scars?

“Do you think he’s still alive?” Irisviel asked quietly.

“I can’t sense any mana.” It was sheer chance that they’d found him at all. After Saber slew Caster’s hell-beast with Excalibur, she and Irisviel had started a sweep of the area to make sure it was secure. They hadn’t found anything. Until now. 

“Stay here,” Saber said. “I’ll take a look.” She approached slowly and lowered herself into a crouch, examining the motionless form. A faint, sickly-sweet odor of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. She glimpsed movement beneath the man’s skin—worms, or maggots—and turned away, pressing a hand over her nose and mouth. Judging by the smell, he had been dead at least a day. Not a casualty of the battle, then. Just some lost soul.

A sad end for any human being—to die alone in this dark and silent alley. Saber looked down at the corpse once more. A blind, milky blue eye stared at nothing. She reached out to smooth his eyelid shut…and her shoulders stiffened in surprise as she touched his skin.

Still warm. 

“Saber?”

“Wait.”

Carefully, she rolled him onto his back, noting as she did that he was not nearly as old as she had first assumed. The undamaged half of his face was almost handsome, making the blinded, ravaged half all the more jarring. Holding her breath, she placed her ear against his chest. A heartbeat—faint but unmistakable—reached her ears.

Saber looked over her shoulder at Irisviel. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but he’s still alive. Let’s get him to a hospital.” She started to lift him off the bloodstained pavement…and then she spotted the Command Seal on his right hand. A chill slid down her spine.

His condition had deteriorated so much, he barely resembled the photograph she’d seen, but there was no mistaking that Seal. For a moment, she remained motionless, frozen.

Irisviel approached. When her gaze fell on the man, she gasped. “This is…”

“Yes,” Saber said quietly. “Kariya Matou.”

In a flash she remembered the looming, black form of Berserker, the red glow of its eyes as it shambled toward her. She flinched. Saber had never feared dying in honorable combat, but fighting that thing…it hadn’t been a duel. It had been like facing down a mindless, slavering beast, something without reason or honor. Even so, there had been something oddly sad about the creature. Its wounded-animal howls echoed in her head.

And this man was its Master. 

She drew her sword and held it against his throat. “You might want to look away,” she told Irisviel.

Irisviel reached out and placed a hand on her wrist. “Saber,” she said quietly. “Wait. I know he’s our enemy, but…are you sure?”

“Believe me, I don’t like ending it this way, either.” It felt like murder. To slay a helpless, sick, unconscious opponent was the height of dishonor and cowardice, an action befitting an assassin, not a knight. This went against the code of chivalry—against everything she stood for.

But she was a Servant. To pass up this opportunity would be foolish. And also... "If we leave him here, he’ll be dead within hours, anyway. No doctor could save him, at this point. The most merciful thing we can give him is a quick death." She gritted her teeth and pressed the edge of the blade against his throat. 

“ _I_ can save him,” Irisviel said.

Saber froze, caught off guard. “You…are you sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “But there’s a chance.”

“What about Kiritsugu-san? What would he think of you healing an enemy Master?”

A few heartbeats of silence passed. “I want to see him win this war,” she said. “I believe in his ideals. But…you are my friend. I know you, Artoria. If you do this, it will haunt you.” She lowered her gaze. “It’s your choice. Whatever you decide, I won’t intervene.”

Saber’s jaw tightened. She stared down into Kariya’s face. At last, she sheathed her sword. “Well, then. Let’s get him to the car.” She lifted him into her arms. It was like lifting a bundle of sticks. “We’ll take him to the base. As a prisoner. After that…we’ll figure it out.”

The tension eased out of Irisviel’s shoulders.

They began to walk, Saber carrying Kariya cradled against her chest, like a groom carrying his bride. He made an unwieldy burden, being taller than her, but Saber’s strength was far greater than a human’s—and for a grown man, the Matou Master was astonishingly light, as if he’d been hollowed out.

Kariya stirred in her arms, moaning faintly. He coughed, and a splash of blood landed on her shirt. Something moved, white and wriggling within the red. Worms. She nearly dropped him, but managed to stifle her reflexes. The worms were already dying, unable to live outside their host’s body, their movements slowing as they squirmed on her shirt. 

He didn’t have much longer. His weak, erratic breathing told her that he was clinging to life by a thread. She quickened her pace. 

He stirred again. His breath rasped softly in his throat; his good eye rolled and twitched beneath the lid, struggling to open. “Aoi…san…” He coughed again. “Is that you?”

She wondered who Aoi-san was. His wife? A lover? But he’d used the formal honorific.

It didn’t matter. If it would calm him, she would say whatever was necessary; given his current state, he was unlikely to remember this exchange. “Yes, it’s me,” she said quietly. “I’m taking you to a safe place. Now rest and conserve your strength.”

He quieted, slipping into merciful unconsciousness.

Saber kept walking, Irisviel close behind her. With every tortured, ragged breath Kariya drew, she was sure it would be his last. There was nothing left of him. He felt so brittle, as though he might crumble apart in her arms. Was this the power of the Matou family—a power which ate its users alive from the inside? Even so, this level of damage surely wasn’t normal, even for them.

What could have compelled him to take on this burden? What could be worth such agony? 

* * *

When they reached the car, Saber opened the back door and maneuvered Kariya onto the backseat. There was a blanket folded up in the trunk; she retrieved it and draped it over him, then got behind the wheel. With Irisviel in the passenger’s seat, she started up the engine. She’d just have to hope they didn’t get pulled over on the way back—explaining why they had an unconscious, blood-spattered man in the backseat might be awkward.

_Have I gone mad?_

Kiritsugu would not approve. She was sure of that. If he used a Command Seal and ordered her to kill Kariya, she would have no choice. But until that moment, she would act under the power of her own will, according to her own code and conscience. She might be a Servant, but she was a knight and a human being first.

Irisviel was silent, but Saber could feel the weight of her gaze.

“We may be able to turn this to our advantage. He may have valuable information,” Saber said. “The more we learn about our enemies, the greater our chances of winning the Grail. In any case, if he dies, his Seals may simply pass to a new Master, and that will throw our plans into chaos. For the moment, at least, keeping him alive as a prisoner is in our best interest.”

She was rationalizing, and she knew it.

Saber’s gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel. “If he makes a threatening move, I won’t hesitate to kill him.”

“I know,” Irisviel.

As they drove, Saber glanced into the rearview mirror. Kariya remained unconscious, but still, she could see the slight movement of his chest as he breathed. Amidst the pity and revulsion, she felt a strange flicker of admiration. His body was in shambles; by all logic, he ought to be dead, yet he hung on seemingly through sheer stubborn willpower.

This man was strong. 


	2. Chapter 2

Kariya floated in a red haze. Voices flickered along the edges of his consciousness. He was dimly aware of a rumbling vibration, like an engine. He tried to open his eye, but exhaustion dragged him down.

He slept, but not peacefully.

* * *

When Kariya Matou was six years old, one of his teachers—upon hearing that he had no storybooks at home—gave him a collection of European fairytales.

The book was old, the cover faded and scratched, the spine creaky and torn. But he devoured it. The world inside the pages was bright and simple: a world filled with brave knights and pure-hearted maidens imprisoned in towers, guarded by dragons or evil wizards.

The wizards all wore funny, pointy hats and had white beards, and the spells they used were just made-up rhymes. Real magic didn’t work that way. It was a lot harder. But even at that age, Kariya knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about magic with the teachers at school.

They weren’t supposed to know about the worms, either. Or the bruises.

One evening, Zouken found the book hidden under Kariya’s pillow. “What is this?” He flipped through the pages. “What sort of simpleton am I raising? If you have time to fill your mind with this nonsense, you aren’t working hard enough at your spells.” He whapped Kariya on the side of the head with the book.

Kariya flinched. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, head lowered. “I’m sorry, Father.” 

“Where did you get this thing?”

“F-from school.”

“Well, you won’t be going to school anymore. Your magical education is far more important, anyway. I can teach you the necessary math and language skills myself.”

Zouken burned the book, but the stories remained engraved into Kariya’s mind and heart.

Late at night, when he was lonely, he would fantasize about that bright world. Sometimes he was the knight, saving the princess—someone soft and gentle. Someone he could protect.

And sometimes he was the one being rescued. He’d imagine himself alone, locked in a dark room at the top of a tall tower. Then the door would open, and sunlight would flood in, and there were warm, strong arms around him, carrying him to a place where he wouldn’t have to be sad or lonely. He never saw his rescuer’s face. Just armor, bright and shiny, like the sun.

* * *

When Kariya turned ten, his father’s cruelty became more creative. Until that point, Zouken had limited his punishments to swats and slaps, with the occasional harder blow when Kariya was particularly slow to grasp some concept.

He no longer remembered exactly what he’d done to displease the old mage, that day. A disrespectful remark, maybe? A botched lesson?

He remembered sitting upright in front of his desk, back stiff, breathing rapidly as Zouken pushed a wriggling, half-mature Crest Worm into his ear canal. “Hold very still for the next three hours, without screaming, and I’ll remove this little fellow,” the old man had told him. “If you scream even once, or struggle, he’ll burrow deeper—into your inner ear—and permanently deafen you on one side. You can manage three hours without moving or screaming, can’t you?”

Kariya remained sitting, breathing in small, shuddering hitches, as the worm nibbled on the inside of his ear.

* * *

By the time he was thirteen, nights in the worm room were a regular part of his "education."

He lay on the cold stone floor, eyes and mouth shut tightly, the bugs crawling over every exposed inch of skin. There was no respite from the sting of their bites, no chance to sleep. He learned, little by little, to shut down his mind during those times, to retreat deep into himself where the worms couldn’t reach him.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked Zouken once, his voice cracking. He’d just emerged from a twelve-hour session in the worm room, and he could no longer feel his body. He seemed to be floating somewhere outside it.

“Hate you?” Zouken raised his eyebrows. “What a stupid question. I’m making you into a great mage. You should thank me.” The old man peered at him with his dark eyes, eyes like empty sockets in his papery white skull of a face. “You have an innate talent for magic, Kariya. You’re far stronger than your brother. It’s a mage’s temperament that you lack. But that will change. Little by little, your mind and body will toughen. You’ll learn to cast aside useless emotions and focus on what matters.”

“And what is that?” Kariya whispered.

“Power, of course. In our world, it is everything.” He smiled slyly. “Of course, you won’t surpass _me._ But one day, you may be strong enough to be of use. If you don’t break, first.” He turned and walked down the hall, his cane clunking against the stones.

“Father.”

Zouken froze.

“Whose bones are they? In the worm room.”

“Ah. I gave them a live calf as a treat. They prefer prey that struggles. It excites them.”

“They were human bones,” Kariya said. “I saw the skull.”

“Oh?” Zouken didn’t turn. “Did you, now.”

“Did you kill someone, Father?”

Zouken turned to face him, hands folded over his cane. “And if I did? What would you do about it? Even now, the worms are chewing up those bones. By tonight, there’ll be nothing left. Not a scrap of evidence.”

He stared, mouth dry. “Who?” he whispered.

“How should I know? Some imbecile, blundering around in the woods, pissing on trees. Possibly homeless, definitely a drunkard. And a trespasser.” 

“You can’t just murder someone for a reason like that! If the Mage’s Association knew—”

“They don’t trouble themselves over such minor issues. They only stir themselves off their laurels when rogue mages threaten the secrecy of the whole trade. One dead drunk won't be missed. Besides…you’re a mere child. Even if you told them, do you really think they would take your word over mine? Don’t be a fool.”

He walked away, leaving Kariya standing alone in the hall, sick to his stomach and shaking with helpless rage.

He thought of the bones on the floor, sad and pale. _Some imbecile,_ Zouken had said. But a person. A person who had probably screamed in terror as he was eaten alive.

How many other lives had Zouken taken? How many more would he take?

* * *

That night, Kariya took a butcher’s knife from the kitchen, snuck up to Zouken’s bedroom, and slipped inside. Teeth clenched, he hunched over Zouken’s sleeping form, braced himself, and shoved the knife between the old man’s ribs.

Zouken opened his eyes. He let out a choking cough. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he let out a wet, bubbling sound. At first, Kariya thought he was screaming. Then he saw the smile contorting Zouken’s face.

The old man was _laughing._

Kariya shoved the knife deeper and twisted. He trembled, panting, half-blinded by tears. Zouken raised one hand, mumbling the words of a spell. A blast knocked Kariya backwards, into the nearest wall. His head bounced off the stone, and his vision swam. He slumped to the floor, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

Zouken sat up and calmly yanked the knife out of his chest. He tossed it to the floor, spattering blood across the tiles. “Do you know,” he said, “some worms can live on even if they’re cut in half? Each half regenerates into a new, separate creature. It’s a sort of immortality.” He placed his hand over the wound, and green light emanated from his palm, sealing the rupture.

“Monster.” Kariya forced the word through gritted teeth.

Zouken spat out another wad of blood, wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, and stood. “A clumsy attempt,” he said. “Still, you managed to puncture a lung. Had you been a little more decisive, you might have reached my heart.” He picked up his cane and advanced toward Kariya, slowly but purposefully.

Kariya staggered to his feet, his head still spinning. He roared and lunged, swinging his fists.

There was a sharp sting on his neck. Dizziness rolled over him. He slumped to the floor like a string-cut puppet. A large, gray insect buzzed across the room and landed on Zouken’s shoulder.

“The sting will keep you disoriented and immobile for a few hours, at least,” Zouken said.

Kariya planted one hand on the floor, straining to push himself up, but his muscles remained limp and unresponsive. He twitched, groaning. Drool pooled beneath his mouth.

Zouken grabbed his hair and hoisted him up.

“Do you know why you failed to kill me, Kariya? Hesitation. You faltered at the last second _. That_ is the weakness I need to burn out of you.” He held up his free hand. A tiny crest worm, barely thicker than a human hair, squirmed out of a bulging vein on the back of his wrist. “My friend is going to live inside you, from now on.”

Zouken’s hand came closer, closer to Kariya’s face. The crest worm leapt, latching onto his cheek, and crawled toward his eye. Kariya let out a choked cry as the worm wriggled in through his tear duct. A sharp, piercing pain shot through his head as it burrowed deeper, into the meat of his eye socket.

“My friend will alert me whenever you’re close,” Zouken said. “And I’ll be able to see whatever you’re seeing. It’ll make sneak attacks much harder, in the future.”

Kariya’s breathing came hard and fast. He could feel a squirming sensation inside his skull as the worm nestled itself snugly somewhere between the back of his eyeball and his brain.

“I probably should have done this a long time ago,” Zouken said, “but I confess, I didn’t think you had the guts to make an attempt on my life. I may make a mage out of you, yet.”

He leaned closer, and his breath—dry and sour, like the air from a crypt—struck Kariya’s face. “Of course, I’ll have to punish you for this.”

Kariya drew in another raspy breath. “Fine.” His voice emerged hoarse and faint, almost inaudible. “Throw me into the worm room. I’m used to it.”

“Oh, you’re not going to the worm room. Tonight, you’re staying here with me.”

Kariya’s chest clenched. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

“I’m going to introduce you to some new forms of punishment. We’re linked through the worm now. I can inflict pain in any way I choose. I can even play with your sense of time—stretch a few minutes into an hour, or an hour into an eternity.”

Help me, Kariya thought to no one in particular. Please. Please. Someone. Anyone. Help me.

Of course, there was no answer. No one was coming to save him. His stupid, childish fantasies of rescue now felt like a mockery. There was no knight in shining armor to scoop him up and carry him away from this hell. He was alone.

“Now,” Zouken said, “let’s begin.”

* * *

The night passed in a haze of nauseating agony. Afterward, the specifics would be fuzzy in his head. Probably a mercy.

He knew that he screamed for a long time. At some point, he stopped screaming and began quietly begging for it to stop. And then, for a while, he made no sound at all. He could not remember a time when the pain hadn’t existed; it was the only reality, stretching on and on into the past and future. He barely remembered who he was or why he was there.

But he knew that he hated Zouken. The hatred was dull, smoldering yet cold. It filled his whole being.

“Yes,” Zouken whispered. “Those are the eyes I wanted to see.” He caressed Kariya’s face, almost tenderly. “Those are a mage’s eyes.”

Deep down, somewhere beneath the layers of pain and hate, something else flickered.

_No._

“Hm…what is that, now?” Zouken leaned in.

_I won’t be like you. I won’t be your doll. I’ll escape—_

“Not done yet?” Zouken smiled. “Well…we still have a few hours before dawn.”

* * *

Saber pulled the curtains shut and lit a lamp in the corner of the room.

Kariya lay unconscious on a padded floor-mat in the small cottage that Saber and Irisviel now shared. He moaned faintly, face contorting, as though troubled by bad dreams.

Irisviel approached, lowered herself to her knees, and looked down at the inert form on the floor. Kariya’s breathing was weaker than before. His blind, paralyzed eye remained half-open, the milky iris visible; his other eye was closed. 

She raised her eyes to Saber’s. “I may need you to help restrain him, once the healing starts.”

“You think he’ll struggle?”

“It will hurt him. But it’s necessary, to save his life. Are you ready?”

Saber nodded.

Irisviel unzipped Kariya’s hoodie, revealing the grimy shirt beneath, and carefully placed her palms on his chest. Her eyes slipped shut. Soft, shimmering green light enveloped her hands.

For a moment or two, nothing happened. Then Kariya’s body jerked, and his good eye snapped open. He gasped, drawing in breath…then screamed. Blood erupted from his mouth, spilling onto his shirt and the floor. White worms wriggled in the tide of red. Saber flinched back. Kariya began to thrash, still screaming, as the glow around Irisviel’s hands brightened.

“Hold him down!” Irisviel snapped.

Saber dropped to her hands and knees and pinned Kariya to the floor-mat by his shoulders.

He vomited again. More worms poured out, glistening and white. Saber gagged. “What’s happening?”

“His body is purging itself of the parasites,” Irisviel said.

Saber wanted to look away. But she had brought him here—this was her doing. Averting her eyes felt like an act of cowardice. She forced herself to watch as more worms slithered and wriggled out of his mouth. Tiny white maggots crawled from his nostrils, his ears; a few wriggled their way out from around the socket of his blind eye and dribbled down his cheek like tears. They broke through the skin of his forehead and neck. Blood spurted out as they struggled free. Bile filled Saber’s mouth, and she swallowed.

Kariya was gasping for breath. He looked straight at her, his eye wide open, glassy with pain. _Aware._ Her throat tightened. Again, she felt the urge to look away, but she held his gaze. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “It’s all right,” she heard herself say.

He coughed. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “I can’t die,” he croaked. “Sakura—Sakura is still—”

“We won’t let you die. Bear it just a little longer.”

His chest heaved. His mouth opened, and another gush of blood and worms poured out. 

Irisviel remained bent over him, her hands pressed to his chest, her slender shoulders trembling with exertion as she poured healing energy into him.

Kariya’s hand groped at empty air, fingers contorting. Without thinking, Saber gripped his hand and squeezed it. “Hold on,” she whispered. She stared into his good eye until the rest of the world faded.

She dared not look away. She felt a superstitious certainty that if she looked away for even a moment, they would lose him—as though their linked gazes were an umbilical cord anchoring him to this world.

“Hold on.”

* * *

The healing went on for almost an hour.

Saber had slain men in battle, had seen their innards spill out like burst rotten fruit. She had seen battlefields so bloody the ground turned red and wet. But by the time Kariya lapsed into unconsciousness, she was shaking uncontrollably. Pools of blood and worms lay cooling on the floorboards. Most of the parasites were already dead; a few still twitched.

Kariya’s blind eye remained open, half his face still slack and ravaged, but his breathing had steadied.

The white glow faded from Irisviel’s hands. She exhaled…then crumpled to the floor.

Saber fell to her knees and gathered Irisviel into her arms. “Irisviel!”

“I’m fine,” she said with a faint smile. “Just tired. Bring me to the shed, please.”

Saber carried Irisviel into the backyard, opened the stone shed, and lay her carefully down in the magic circle drawn there. “I’m sorry,” Saber said. “I shouldn’t have allowed this healing. Not knowing you’re already in poor health.”

“It was my idea. Remember?” Irisviel caught her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I told you, Saber—what’s wrong with me is a fundamental defect in my construction. Exerting myself won’t make much difference, in the long run.” She smiled again, wanly. “Go and check on our patient. It would be a waste if he were to die after all that, don’t you think?”

Saber hesitated, then nodded. “Call my name if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”

She left Irisviel resting on the stone floor, the magic circle glowing softly around her.

* * *

Kariya lay motionless, breathing slowly. Saber pressed an ear to his chest. His heartbeat was steady.

She fetched a mop and bucket and got to work cleaning up the worms and blood. A few of the creatures were still twitching. She tried not to look at them.

How many hundreds of those things had he held inside his body?

A faint tapping came from the window. Saber turned to see several large insects, like dragonflies, butting their heads against the glass. She approached slowly. The insects circled, buzzing. Their bodies were a flat steel-gray, their wings iridescent, with glints of green and purple.

Odd. Perhaps they were like moths, attracted to the light inside the house. Or...were they Kariya's?

She closed the curtains and turned her attention back to her task.

Once the floor was reasonably clean, she changed the blankets and peeled off Kariya’s filthy, bloodstained shirt. His upper body was scrawny and completely covered with scars. Shallow wounds marred his abdomen, as though the skin had been eaten away, revealing the raw meat beneath. It appeared Irisviel hadn’t had enough strength to heal him completely; just expelling the parasites from his body had left her exhausted.

Saber cleaned the wounds as best she could, using soapy water, then antiseptic, and bandaged them. By the time she’d finished, his abdomen was completely swathed in linen strips. His sweatpants were still relatively clean, compared to the shirt. She left them alone. Better to leave him with some modicum of dignity.

She sat on the floor, her back against the wall, and stared at their new guest—or captive—or whatever he was. For a while, she just listened to his breathing. _Sakura._ He had spoken of someone named Sakura. He’d said that he couldn’t die yet.

Had he chosen to bear this cross for the sake of another, then? To save someone he loved?

It made sense. A man seeking mere glory or power would not desecrate his own body in this way.

It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. He was the enemy. 

_Kariya Matou._ She knew so little about him, aside from what Kiritsugu had told her. The black sheep of the secretive Matou family. The disgraced runaway who had cut off all ties with the world of magic and then inexplicably returned to fight in the Grail War.

Saber sighed, wiped the sweat from her brow, and prepared to keep watch over him until he woke. 


	3. Chapter 3

Kariya woke with a coppery taste in his mouth. Blood—his own, no doubt. He opened his eye a crack, but his vision was foggy and dim.

He felt as weak as a newborn. Hollowed. Scraped out.

And yet the gnawing, burning pain which had been his constant companion for the past year had receded to a dull ache.

The worms…were gone?

No. Not entirely. A few still moved deep in the hollows of his body, sending little twinges through his flesh. But he felt closer to alive than he had for months.

_What happened to me?_ He fumbled through the haze inside his head. The last thing he clearly remembered was fighting Tokiomi on the bridge, and then…

_I died._ Or at least, he remembered burning, falling.

There had been a girl. A girl with wheat-colored hair, looking at him with clear green eyes that seemed far too old to belong in her smooth face. There had been someone else, too, a young woman with white hair. But it was the green-eyed girl he remembered most clearly.

He struggled to focus his eye. Had the fire damaged it? Panic lurched in his chest. If he was blinded, could he still fight? Maybe he could use Berserker as a seeing-eye dog. Maybe—

"You're awake."

His head turned toward the voice. He rubbed at his eye, and at last, his vision cleared. Relief rushed through him.

Someone there…someone sitting on the floor, a few feet away…

It was her. The golden-haired girl. He recognized her now; he'd glimpsed her during the first battle of the Grail War. Saber. The Einzberns' Servant. He'd been captured by the enemy.

He lurched to his feet.

Saber stood, mirroring his movement. In an instant, she materialized her armor around her and drew her sword. For a few heartbeats, they stared at each other in silence.

"I will not attack first," she said. "But if you strike, I will not hold back."

Kariya's ragged breathing echoed through the room. He stood hunched over, clutching his bad arm, teeth gritted. The few remaining worms stirred inside him, sensing his agitation. Should he summon Berserker? He could feel his Servant's dark energy roiling in the back of his head, always there, ready to erupt.

But materializing Berserker was a huge drain on his mana. Already, he was weakened, his legs shaking; it took all his strength just to stay on his feet. If he called for his Servant now, there was a good chance he'd lose consciousness. Or die.

Saber's eyes never left him. Still, she made no move to attack. Why?

His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the situation. If he was a captive, why wasn't he bound? He looked down at his bandaged stomach. They'd treated his wounds. His gaze darted around the room, which looked surprisingly ordinary. "What is this place?" His voice emerged hoarse and scratchy.

"A safe house. We found you injured in the street and brought you here."

His fingers tightened on his arm. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

"To kill an opponent at their weakest would be an act of cowardice. It goes against the code of chivalry."

_Chivalry…_

The words stirred faint memories. A stab of pain pierced Kariya's chest. He covered his face with one hand and laughed—a bitter, pained sound.

Saber tensed. "Does that amuse you?"

The laugh broke down into a cough, which he muffled against one fist. "No," he whispered. He smiled, though it probably looked more like a contorted grimace. The muscles on the scarred half of his face didn't work so well, anymore. "I'm laughing at myself. I'm such a pathetic sight, even my enemies pity me."

"Chivalry is not about pity," she replied. "It's about decency. Make no mistake—I do not take you lightly, Kariya Matou. If you summon your Servant to attack me, I'll fight back with all my strength. But I am a knight. And it's the duty of a knight to help those in pain and distress, whoever they are."

A knight. Well, she certainly looked the part. Muffled, half-forgotten emotions stirred in the depths of his soul. He felt as though he were having a strange dream. Maybe he was. These days, his entire life felt like a fever-dream; it was hard to separate reality from hallucination.

"Well, Matou-san? Will you summon your Berserker? Or will you walk out that door?" She brought her sword up with a dramatic swish. The blade itself was invisible, a swirling distortion in the air. "Choose."

Berserker rumbled inside his skull, sending shivers of dark lightning through his nerves. _Kill her,_ an inner voice whispered.

He shook his head, like a horse trying to dislodge a fly from its ear, and pressed a hand over his bandaged abdomen.

"Are—are you the one who healed me?"

"That was Irisviel."

"Your Master?"

"My friend."

Her Master was someone else, then. Who?

He pushed the thoughts away. He didn't understand any of this, but he couldn't stay here. He had to find Tokiomi. Had to finish the job he'd started. Had to—

Wait. Why did he need to kill Tokiomi, again?

_It's his fault. He's the one who gave Sakura to Zouken. He's the reason for Aoi's suffering._ The hissing voice in his head sounded like his own. But it was warped, distorted. _You want to kill him. Don't deny it. I can smell your hatred. What are you waiting for?_

He was no longer certain which thoughts were his and which were Berserker's. The realization brought a flash of panic. How long had he been mistaking his Servant's bloodlust for his own? Was there even a difference, anymore?

A sharp pain lanced through his skull. His brain was splitting, like the segments of an orange.

Saber watched him, green eyes cool and inscrutable, sword poised. "What's wrong?"

He cradled his head in both hands. "Berserker…"

_You wanted this power so you could punish the ones who stole your happiness, didn't you?_

_No! That's not why I'm doing this! I—Sakura—_

An animal roar filled his head. _Stop stalling, you fool! This woman is our enemy! KILL HER NOW! KILL THEM ALL!_

" _Shut up, already!"_ Kariya roared back. With all his willpower, he shoved Berserker down into the depths of his own mind, binding him with chains of thought.

Berserker's dark, seething presence reluctantly dimmed. Kariya collapsed to the floor, panting, exhausted. Cold sweat bathed his body.

Saber was looking at him with a mixture of fascination and unease. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

"Just…talking to my Servant." Kariya swallowed. The anger was fading, replaced by the burn of shame. What had he become? _I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this._ "I should go. I—I don't want to hurt you."

"An odd thing to say, considering you chose to fight in this war. Though, frankly, I doubt you're in any condition to hurt me."

"Please—just—stay back." He tried to push himself off the floor, promptly collapsed again, and lay in a limp heap, like a discarded ragdoll. He managed to roll onto his back and tried to draw his legs up, to push himself into a sitting position, but he couldn't even manage that.

She was right. Wrestling Berserker into submission had sapped the last of his strength. He could barely move.

Saber stared at him, her face an inscrutable mask. "Who is Sakura?"

He drew his breath in sharply.

His first impulse was to respond, _I don't know what you're talking about._ He didn't want to tell anyone his reason for fighting. He'd made the decision to do this alone, to avoid dragging outsiders into this miserable mess.

But this woman had saved his life. He owed her some sort of explanation.

"She's a daughter of the Tohsaka family," he whispered. "She was taken from her parents and given away, like a gift. As if she had no thoughts or feelings or wishes of her own. Now she's the prisoner of a sadistic monster—my father. He uses her as he used me. As a host for his Crest Worms."

Saber's expression remained calm, but he noticed a slight tightening around her eyes and mouth. "What was done to you…he did this to a child, as well? Against her will?"

"Yes." His throat tightened. "Every day she's in that place, she endures tortures you can't imagine. Locked in a dark room, forced to serve as a breeding ground for the worms. She doesn't even cry anymore. It's as if she's forgotten how. I struck a bargain with my father—that if I won the Grail for him, he would release her."

Saber stared at him, eyes wide.

He sat up, wincing at the ache in his muscles. "I took the Crest Worms into my body to expand my magic circuits…and because it amuses my father to see me suffer. That was part of the bargain, too. I know the worms will kill me, eventually. But I'm the only chance she has. So I have to win." He closed his eye. "It's my own fault Sakura was given to the Matou. I was supposed to be the heir, but I left. I ran away. I should have known that Zouken would just find a replacement. This is all because of my stupidity. I have to make it right. No matter what it costs me."

He hadn't intended to tell her so much. The words had just spilled out of him. It felt like an eternity since he'd spoken to another human being. That brief conversation with Aoi in the park, and his heated exchange with Tokiomi on the bridge…that was the extent of the human contact he'd had, since he left the Matou mansion. Berserker wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Saber was silent, but he could feel the weight of her gaze. His skin prickled, and he was suddenly, acutely aware that he was naked from the waist up, the map of scars on his skin exposed. In a flash, he remembered the shock and revulsion in Aoi's eyes when she'd glimpsed his new face for the first time.

He'd known for years that she could never return his feelings. She hadn't wanted him even when he was whole. How could she possibly want him now, when he was…this?

Still, seeing that disgust had broken something inside him.

Saber spoke, pulling him from his thoughts: "That's why you seek the Grail, then? To save this child? That's the _only_ reason?"

"I don't care about winning this war, if that's what you're asking. I never did." The Grail War had always struck him as a cruel, senseless waste of life. So many participants had died, over the years—and worse, innocent bystanders. It was an orgy of blood to satisfy the mages' insane, endless thirst for power and glory. Another reminder of why he had always hated the world of magic, why he'd been so desperate to escape it.

Slowly, Saber sheathed her sword. Her armor dematerialized. Beneath it she wore a plain, androgynous black suit. "Stay here," she said. "I'll be right back."

"You're not going to bind me? Aren't you afraid that I'll escape?"

"I told you. You're free to walk out that door anytime you wish."

"I can't imagine your Master would approve of this."

"I do many things he doesn't approve of. I'm a Servant, not a mindless doll."

_He._ Her Master wasn't the white-haired woman, then. Who was it?

"If you're truly in this war to save a little girl, then—while you and I might be opponents for the moment—we are not enemies. You said you don't want to hurt me. I'll take you at your word."

"Some would call that naïve."

"I'm well aware of that." She tilted her head. "Would you prefer to be bound?"

"Er…no thank you."

"Then lie down and rest while I talk to my friend. You look like you're about to pass out. You lost a lot of blood. And…worms." She walked out the door.

* * *

When Saber entered the shed, Irisviel sat up in the circle and stretched her arms. She looked better, though still a little cloudy-eyed. "How is he?"

Saber sat down nearby. "Still weak. Disoriented. But conscious. I'd say your healing was successful."

"I'm glad." She let out a soft sigh and folded her arms atop her knees. "What now?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She supposes she ought to be discussing this with her Master instead. But she wanted her friend's opinion first. Truthfully, Saber felt closer to Irisviel than Kiritsugu.

Irisviel waited, listening.

"Kariya Matou is fighting on behalf of another. There's a little girl…" She stopped, breathing in. It disturbed her deeply, to think of a child subjected to the horrors he'd described. "She's the prisoner of a cruel man. Kariya doesn't want the Grail for its own sake. He only wishes to save her. I think…there is more to gain from cooperating with him than from fighting him."

"You're saying we should make an alliance?"

"An alliance between two Masters is uncommon at this stage in the game, I realize. But it's not unheard of. If we can help him save the person he loves, then he may be willing to fight by our side."

Irisviel gazed at her steadily with her soft ruby eyes. "You think he's trustworthy?"

"It's hard to judge, at this point. He's…overwhelmed. Unbalanced. He seems to have a tumultuous relationship with his Servant. Having met Berserker, I don't find that surprising. Anyone would struggle to control that beast. As for Kariya himself…I don't know."

"What does your heart tell you?" Irisviel's gaze was intent, and Saber was struck by a strange impression—that she was talking to someone who was at once much younger and much older than herself.

Saber frowned, thinking. She tried not to rely on intuition, as a general rule. In war, one had to think tactically. But of course, there were moments when a fighter had to make decisions based on limited information. "I believe he's telling the truth," she said. "When I look into his eyes—eye, I mean—I don't see deception. I see desperation. If he leaves now—if he goes on fighting alone, in his current condition—he won't survive this war. I'm sure of that much. And I think he knows it, too. He has nothing to lose by cooperating with us, and everything to gain."

"If you trust him," she said, "then I trust him."

Saber allowed a tiny smile to soften her face. "That means a great deal to me." The smile faded quickly. "Kiritsugu is the one I really need to convince, though."

"He might be more open to the idea if he heard it from me, first. Let me try. I'll contact him tonight." She removed a boxy black cell phone from her coat pocket. "He said I can reach him through this, if I need to."

Saber nodded. "I'll watch over our guest in the meantime. Though…if he's going to be staying a while, I suppose I should get him something to wear."

"There should be clean clothes in the closet. I don't know how well they'll fit, but they're better than nothing."

"I'll take a look." She paused. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine." She smiled, but there was a pained tightness around the edges.

Worry tugged at Saber's heart. "Can I bring you anything? Water, or—"

Irisviel shook her head. "Rest is the only thing that will help me, now. Take care of Kariya-kun."

Japanese honorifics were rather complex in their implications, Saber had noticed; the language had manifested naturally in her mind as soon as she materialized, but she often missed some of the subtleties, or had to stop and think about them. _Kun_ indicated friendship, or at least familiarity.

_Already, he's Kariya-kun?_

Well…they had saved his life, after all. That brought a certain level of familiarity.


End file.
